


Derelict

by exophigeon



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, exophilia - Fandom
Genre: AD&D, Eldath, F/M, Forgotten Realms - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Homebrew lore to fill in the gaps, Human/Monster Romance, Injury Recovery, Medical Inaccuracies, NPC Deaths, Near Death Experiences, No beta reader, Older Editions, Ondonti, Orc, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader Nickname instead of Y/N, Reader has no class lvls, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Totem of the Bear, barbarian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exophigeon/pseuds/exophigeon
Summary: When Malek leads the attack to take back his people kidnapped by slavers he's surprised to find trouble already brewing for the enemy. There is one fighter among their own number who isn't from the tribe. A human woman, worn down and abandoned yet somehow unbroken. After she saves his life nearly at the cost of her own she awakens drawn in to the world of an elusive and troubled people. She belongs there about as much as she belongs anywhere else.
Relationships: Human/Orc, Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader, Reader/Orc
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	1. Malek Prologue: Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're ready to become friends with a big orc guy and develop it in to something over time! This story will eventually cover some more uncomfortable themes and does include things like injury to the reader, living with mental illness, captivity, cultural trauma and more, all of which will come with a warning at the beginning of the chapter. Please be certain to check! CW for this chapter: blood, death, eye-trauma, fire, slavers, severe wounds, stabbing, asphyxiation.
> 
> For now, we're going to meet you from Malek's point of view...

The sound of battle started suddenly without us. Our raid party exchanged shocked glances before rushing through the woods without a word, from careful steps to crashing haphazardly through the bush. The forest and plains may be our home but we were still large creatures that needed to take things slow and careful to remain undetected, yet this was no longer a concern. We cut through foliage like sharpened steel expecting the worst. Trouble was already happening and we hadn't been the ones to start it. Our raid party halted at the tree line looking out on the field where the slavers had made camp, scanning it for only the briefest moment. Time gambled to make a barely-educated decision before jumping in and hoping it was paid back in precious seconds without a dagger to our throats.

Somehow our taken people were already escaping in to the night with only the firelight at their backs. Two of the three carts on the small caravan had open doors and stood empty of prisoners. Bodies, the lot of them thankfully non-orcs, laid scattered along what seemed like a tidy patrol line. There was a great mass of still very much alive and angry slavers closing in on something near the third wagon, the roof of which was aflame. Shouts for help came from inside. Shouts we all recognized. Above it all roughed the deep timber of my father calling for calm and prayer. No amount of dedication to Eldath would make a humble villager or child burn quietly, but what choice did he have other than to try and comfort his shackled fellows? 

The elements joined us in our charge through the field. A hard gust of wind rushed forth from behind us, rattling the drying summer grasses and hiding our heavy footsteps as we ran. It wasn't until the first of our warriors broke in to the circle of light in the camp's center with weapons at the ready that our enemies roared any notice of us. It was immediate chaos with their current target forgotten, diverting to meet us while expecting to find to us unwilling to really fight. We had made our peace with this violence in the name of our families however, and clashed with all the fury of lava to sea, though this furious scrambling didn't have a fraction of that beauty. The sight of people brought to the ground in pain, injured and bleeding, scared for their lives, this is the closest we ondonti come to witnessing war. It was ugly, brutal and inartistic. We were careful of our targets' mortality though they did not intend to afford us this same courtesy. Going was slower than the adrenaline made me crave. It felt like I would never reach the sound of my father's voice as I waded through clash after clash. 

With a blunt thud the man before me slumped limp from his impact with the side of the burning wagon. I rounded the corner with my great-axe raised and ready to meet anyone who should try to stop me. The furious whites of eyes on an unexpected figure stilled me, silently daring me to try. Shock flashed in my chest like falling in a half-iced river as I felt like a fawn before a wolf under that glare. A human glanced between myself and the door she was working to unlock with trembling, blood slicked hands. Her shaking grip was going from key to key on a ring that she must have procured from one of the slavers despite the lock on the door clearly having been undone. I managed no words and merely looked on slack-jawed as I lowered my weapon. Her hair was matted, her body nude yet so filthy her decency was spared by dried blood and dirt alone, her face so smudged that most individual features escaped me. She finally found the key and grabbed me in a surprisingly firm grasp around my hand, wrenching it from my axe and pressing thumb to wrist to force my palm open. She slapped the entire ring in to my grip, pointed to one in particular, and released me. With a silent nod she backed to the opposite wheel where a downed man lay and wrenched one of the shittiest looking daggers I have seen to this day from his collarbone before darting in to the fray. There was no parting spray of gore as the blade ripped past his artery. His heart was already stopped. My stomach sunk at the thought of what must have taken place here moments before I'd rounded the corner. 

There was no time to dwell, however. The wagon was not burning slower and I had already wasted a breath too long. The wooden clash of the door flinging outward had every face within turning to me with fear or anger. All of them sagged tiredly as they recognized me. I threw my weight inward, fumbled for the key that was shown to me and tried to free the woman in the nearest shackles, a hundred questions coming my way at once amid a hundred more pleads for brevity in my task. Answers could wait, getting them out couldn't. K-tchk. The sound of the lock's release was a wave of relief over all of us. The stranger at the door had shown me the right key after all! I went from arm to arm freeing each shackled wrist and letting each cuff fall to the floor like its own victory. I tried not to think too hard about the bruises revealed on their skin. The split of their knuckles and lips. The blackness of half the eyes I looked to. 

"No one run until we can all run. We need the safety of the numbers if we don't want to be picked off," my father commanded, and the deference to his decision was automatic and unspoken. Each pair of bonds that dropped to the floor was another tense orc waiting to flee. I got to my father last and found he had been the least lucky of them. His side was sticky with a freshly bleeding wound hidden beneath the fabric of his robe. 

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Nothing one of the clerics can't fix. What's going on out there? Some human showed up at the bars of the window to try and hush us and open the door. She must have been seen but the firebolt missed her. All hells broke loose!" 

My jaw clenched and I didn't answer, instead walking toward the door. Explaining this could be done while running instead of hanging out in a burning caravan. That human likely needed our aid and we needed to reach our fellows. Things seen tonight couldn't be forgotten however, and with this in mind I turned in the doorway. "Cover the childrens' eyes. Don't let them look. She has fought with all desperation and without Eldath's guidance." 

"Now tha's just a shame, innit?" The figure behind me was large enough I felt the heat rolling off her body fresh from battle, distinct despite the fire crawling up the side of the wagon. I did not have to see her for her presence to raise the hair on the back of my neck. "Such a loss of men an' a mess she's made fer us, an' it still weren't enough t'get you lot out of here." The fire at my front made the cold of her blade almost painful when she pressed it to rest between my shoulders despite it barely knicking the skin. "Turn around slow, cub. I don't like makin' a habit of stabbin' folks in the back, unlike that liddle rat out there." 

I turned to see the snarling tone dripping down at me to be coming from a goliath woman. Very rare this far from the mountains, and rarer still to be traveling in such company. Their cultural disposition toward making things a fair fight saved my life long enough for her to show me the greatsword she planned to bury in my belly. I didn't have the space to maneuver in here. The second she decided she wanted to do so…

"Yer friends out there are makin' a right mess out of my little operation here, fodder," she spit the last slur at me like venom, "an' I got plenty of anger to take out. Maybe if you beg for their lives I'll spare the rest of these fuckin' morons once your head rolls." 

Anger welled in my gut. I swallowed. My life was nothing I would try to keep at the cost of the people I shielded. There was dignity in a death for your fellows even if it gave the enemy satisfaction. My lips parted, trying to find the words to say.

A screaming blur of fury launched in to the side of the goliath with such force it knocked the greatsword from her grasp, slicing my skin just deep enough to leave a bleeding scratch rather than the goring I'd expected. It was the human, clawing and scrambling against her enemy's broad side and back. The giant woman flung her shoulder in to the wall of the wagon behind her hoping to crush the new arrival. That human was every bit the snarling, scrappy beast one would expect to be fueled by rabid madness, hunger and wounds. With alarm I stood tall in the doorway blocking the view from the others. They still heard the sound of their true savior burying that chipped dagger in to the eye of the goliath, twisting it deeper and deeper even as she herself was taken by the throat and rammed over a lantern hook, choking on wordless pain and rage. 

The both of them struggled to scream their hatred for the other and their determination not to fall. Locked in a struggle they both seemed to be losing, desperate to twist the knife enough to still the other first. With a half-choked gasp of air through cracked lips the human seemed to have won, the grip on her throat loosening. No time for relief. As the goliath's body fell there was nothing left to hold her upward, her face twisting in horror as she realized she would tear down the hook- 

I don't much remember actually grabbing her. Just holding her up, free of the hook, hands beneath her arms and bringing her close trying to cradle as much of her weight off her spine as I could manage. She stared at me with all the confusion, fear and disbelief of a cornered animal offered kindness. The whites of her eyes against her gore smattered face gave me that same prey-like pause it had before despite her being a broken, beaten and bleeding mess in my arms. Then they rolled back and shut, the spell was broken, leaving me fearing she'd died . I held her chest to my ear and let loose a breath I didn't know I was holding in a deep sigh of relief. She was breathing. In bad shape, but breathing. I didn't realize how deafened to the world around me I'd become until I confirmed this and found my senses returned to the world with the evacuation of the wagon at my back and whistled a shrill call. One of the rescue party bounded toward the slavers' horses to cut them free and scatter them before shouting in our own tongue to all of us: It was over, and all were free.

Our victorious retreat was as gracelessly expedient as our arrival. We had taken back everyone with no losses to our side! As we rushed through the forest I looked between my father, who was far more pained than he wanted to let on, and the limp human dangling in my arms. No losses yet at least.


	2. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malek is keeping close tabs on his father's recovery, as well as the mysterious human woman who had saved him. The two meet only slightly more properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter we will eventually be shifting from Malek's POV to the Reader POV.
> 
> CW for this chapter includes: discussion of injury including parasites and burns, fear, nudity, blood. If you don't know what "fly struck" is please be VERY careful googling it.

"I really am fine. You do not need to use visiting me as an excuse to check on our guest, Malek."

My eyes snapped back from the sleeping figure across the way to my father, brows furrowing as he chuckled at me. "I'm doing no such thing! I don't like not being here to care for you, and every second someone can corner me they're asking me how you are anyway. Clearly if anything I should be visiting you more seeing as I'm substituting for the entire damn village."

"I am a Shaman now. Not many feel as if they can approach me yet, but they know my son has no such qualms. Please forgive their awkward adaption," he still sounded amused. I sighed, looking more blatantly toward the other occupied bed here in the temple.

"And same to her. If I do not inquire who will? She saved those of our village and their thanks is to wonder how long she will remain once she awakens. They're not subtle about their fear of her."

That did give my father pause. "The poor girl has been through who knows what. She was already there in chains when our people were loaded in to the carts. Once they scraped all the dirt and gore off her they found much of that blood was her own. Tick covered and fly struck like a stray dog she was! Her condition couldn't have gotten so poorly trapped in a wagon." He shook his head in disgust. "She's been repeatedly burned and wounded for some time as well," he recounts sadly, "and, Eldath's kindness upon them regardless, most folk tend to not do well with problems of strangers they cannot fix in a gesture or two. Son," and his expression was worried now, "please understand that the strength alone to survive in her condition is intimidating by itself. This is not a village of ondonti like you. Few are strapping warriors with bravery to spare."

"Rulei was the first thrown in. We all know she's a sweet mousey thing with all the bravery of a babe. And yet! She told me that woman seemed given over to death until she saw the others. She must not have drank in days- spoke comforting stories to the children until blood stained her teeth from the bleeding of her dry throat, and that she only stopped because the look of it frightened them, not for the pain." His face grew grim as I told him this. Both of us watched as the temple's two clerics came to move the human's inert form out to the Glade for prayer and bathing. Any excuse to not be there for this discussion.

"She also killed the person tasked with simply bringing them rations to get his keys. It was still silent as night even with her locked down like an animal, making it more grotesque a thing for her fellow prisoners to see when they close their eyes at night now. Of the victims coming here to seek comfort at the Grove this is what I have heard prayed for relief from the most. They plead to forget the lives lost for their sake. If she had just waited awhile longer, you and your party-"

"Those lives were wagered willingly by taking part in such a loathsome profession! None of you could know we were coming. Not even you. Especially not a stranger who was very likely to die if she didn't escape soon. You could have sat to rot with that arrow in your side if she had waited silent and obedient to a faith she does not even know even with us arriving when we did. Without her we may have failed, and with her we succeeded with no casualties."

"… It is a complicated issue. I do not doubt your belief that she is something kind despite what the world has tried to make her. It has still left her something broken and unfamiliar. I am not saying to forgive their foolish fears. I am saying give them time to overcome them. It takes time to look in to haunted eyes and feel unafraid."

This moved me to finally be silent a long moment, remembering each time I'd looked her in the eyes that night. "Yes sir." I looked to my hands folded in my lap, trying to look more contemplative than I felt. Even if she was clearly capable of doing terrible things she'd nearly given her life to save our people. To save me. That didn't leave any question of trust in my mind, even without exchanging a single word. "How are you feeling though, really?"

He drew a deep breath as if to demonstrate he could do so with only the smallest of winces now, huffing at my worrying. "I'm a tough old bastard you know. You may have gotten your strength from your mum but I'm no delicate thing. It'll take more than that to off me." I was surprised. He didn't often mention our missing family these days even in passing. He must have been thinking of them a lot with everything that had happened.

"Yes, yes, I know I got mother's strength. Sett got your strength though, and he was nearly a willow branch last we saw of him."

"Need I remind you your brother could turn in to a bear?"

"Ha! I'm always a bear." I gestured to the bear print tattoos on my bare chest and the various other totemic sigils with peacocking flourish. "I bet Loreni's even more spindly. I don't-" The surprised shouting of the two clerics in the Glade interrupted us and I stood defensively until a familiar human woman slid in to view, wet feet scrabbling on the stone floor as she fled in a panic from the clergy. Her momentum was nearly enough to carry her in to a wall and for a moment after turning she seemed to run in place.

Our eyes met, and I could see the recognition set in. She stopped almost mid-stride and stood still, halfway across the room, the two of us staring each other down in silent shock.

* * *

It was that orc. The one from the hunting party that had come to free their stolen people. At least you were pretty sure... It had been very dark, his face obscured in shadow by a frame of thick hair between it and the fire behind him. The tattoos were harder to mistake. They didn't have that dull glow now but the shape was obvious. The two of you stood there looking at the other like they'd grown an ass for a face. Seeing him in daylight made his carefulness seem that much more irregular. His ink-marked skin leaned to the brighter greens of the spectrum you've seen among these brilliantly colorful folk. His hair, separated in to thick braids with leather ties, was as black as you expected but washed and shining with health. His large tusks were well-kept, and there was so much else you didn't expect of orcs! A general softness to even his strong features, ears longer than even those of elves, the inside of his mouth showing a bright blue as it hung open stupidly at you. Somehow these still weren't the most outstanding thing about him. It was his sheer size that stood out. He was one of the largest orcs you'd seen in the raid, not only in height but broadness and musculature, stomach rounded like a small drum rather than flat. He looked like he should have sooner ripped you in two than lifted you to safety merely on principal. Like he wouldn't have been capable of less.

It slowly dawned on you that you were gawking at him and this older gentleman completely nude and dripping with pond water, feeling blood flow freely from several wounds as you shivered pathetically. You puffed an irate spritz of moisture from your lips, blowing excess running from what remained of your hair. Coming to from your shock you ripped a sheet from a nearby bed, wrapping it around yourself and grinding your teeth as you tried not to show the ache of your movements. Who was the other one? A relative of extra large here? Their earrings matched. Ivory crescent moons that you had not seen on anyone else, though many in your wagon seemed to have specific matches.

The two orcs who had been hovering over you when you came to held just under the surface of the placid pond out back finally caught up despite nearly slipping on your trail of water. They didn't have the same surprise to see you as the other two and advanced with purpose. You leaned away, fearfully backpedaling toward the mysterious orc. He was slightly less of a stranger than these bozos, so you trusted him that fraction more readily. If he wanted you dead he could have long since killed you. For all you knew however these other two were eager to drown you and be done with a problem like a tossed sack of kittens.

"Ma'am! Your wounds need cleaned!" One orc lilted in his strangely accented common, speaking slower now in hopes that you might better understand him. The other, dressed in a matching crisp outfit of colorfully dyed cotton, nodded in agreement.

"You shouldn't be moving around like this," she insisted, "you're risking tearing your back open again!"

A sharp throb of nauseating pain reminded you that-

"She already has." You swung around when a voice spoke much closer behind you than he'd previously been. The hands that came down on either shoulder were large enough they had to be bigger than your head if curled in to fists. Despite this their weight was merciful. He looked terribly concerned down at you with the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. You couldn't help but feel like a petulant child being looked over by a concerned parent. Still, his careful nature was enough to stop you from feeling small before him even though he towered over your height. The orcish clerics approached more calmly now that you weren't on the run. "You've turned that sheet well red in an instant, miss. You are in a bad way. They only wish to heal you." So they were clerics then. When you responded only by looking at him with unchanging surprise he seemed a bit lost.

Eventually he spoke again. "What is your name?" His worried gaze felt infantilizing but you couldn't get irritated with his words. His voice was like hot cocoa on sleety evenings. As slush is against skin, his sound made you detest the silence in comparison but enjoy the warmth that much more when you took it in.

"You caught me." Your own voice was a harsh croak you could barely manage.

That wiped that dumb babying look off his mug. His brows made for the ceiling. "I'm sorry?"

"The hook. I was falling on it. You caught me."

"I did, yes."

"Do you sing?"

"That's a very strange name."

"So you do, but you are embarrassed about it."

The older orc in the bed barked a laugh that made you jump in place ready to bolt, and he wheezed it onward until a stitch in his side stopped him. Or perhaps something worse? He was here in a rest bed after all. "Hardly a word out of you and she's already got you all figured out Malek," he chuckled. You gave him a tiny, innocent smile. The kind of tiny, innocent smile that was the tip of a massive, shit-eating grin of an iceberg.

'Malek' huffed. "You are putting off being seen by the clerics," he groused as he lifted you with palms under your arms, making you squawk indignantly and grab at the sheet, body going rigid as you frowned. His expression warmed a little. "Every young pup who's ever gotten an injury in training under my watch pulls this exact deflective shit trying to be a tough guy. Difference is _they're_ children and they don't typically nearly die first." Ok, you had the decency to look a bit apologetic at that.

He set you on the edge of the bed you suspected you'd been kept in and stepped back. "My father, er," his words stumbled as if he'd made a mistake, "Shaman Rumbregal will keep you company," and his voice rose so he could be heard across the room, "because _the both of you_ need bed rest until it is safe to fully close your wounds." The older orc, Rumbregal you supposed, snorted. Without more of a goodbye than that he was walking toward what you assumed was the way out, seemingly in high spirits.

"Malek."

He stopped as you'd hoped, looking over his shoulder with slight concern. You told him your name. He grinned wide and toothy at you, repeating your name to make sure he pronounced it correctly. It was a pretty sound from him. Despite this he thought on it a moment and seemed quickly unsatisfied.

"Seems far too meek a name for you, little wolf." With that he was gone and you came to the sudden awareness that one of the clerics was moving you and tugging at the sheet every which way to check your wounds now that you could sit up under your own volition, the other approaching with a bowl of broth. You did your best to ignore what was happening to you and focused on the doorway Malek had just passed through. He was certainly a character. You'd likely remember him fondly when you journeyed on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Recovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in rough shape. Getting better isn't going to be an overnight task even with magical healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: parasite removal, surgical procedure, description of the sensation from injury/pain + injury recovery, starvation, anxiety.

For the first leg of your recovery you lay in the bed, clenching and unclenching your fists, chewing your cheek and trying to get comfortable on your belly. Moving hurt the deep wound on your back and up under your ribs, and doing too much of it was bound to make you bleed. You wanted to pace, to dig, to do anything but this. It seems this was the one unkindness of a proper bed and doctor: boredom. You were shaking worse than fresh boughs in a storm trying to resist all the messing with healing injuries you shouldn't be doing. 

To the cleric's credit you had awoken in far better shape than you had been in when you fell asleep, but magic from most casters could only fix so much and you would be doing yourself no good to close in an infection or foreign body. You had come to consciousness some two days after the raid on the slavers and the unpleasant trimming and pulling had already been done by then. The row of tick bites down your spine where you couldn't reach were still swollen enough that it was unsafe to close them, waiting for the angry red to recede enough to pull any engorged and embedded females free. If you dared to breath deeper you could feel the points like marbles under the skin. The edges of your wounds were raw, the shallowest of them freshly exposed and un-bandaged. They burned whenever a draft dusted over them. Your hair had been shaved down enough to not only remove the matts and nits but give them access to scrub out the gashes there. The itch was awful as the medicine they had applied to kill the parasites didn't play nice with open wounds. There were unique opportunities for discomfort along the rest of you in more minor ways. The many slices upon your feet from running barefoot for so long and the unfamiliar ache of pulled skin from burns being allowed to actually heal, for instance. You were hopeful that would be the last time the brand would be re-applied. 

You might readily skin yourself trying to relieve the desire to scratch if you gave in and in your un-enriched bed-ordered state it almost seemed worth it.. If it weren't for the worst feeling of all. Shaman Rumbregal's eyes on you when you got twitchy enough it seemed you might break and pick the wounds. Something about his gaze even stopped you from putting up too much of a fuss with the clerics even when they were performing painful swabbing and re-bandaging.

It wasn't the only discomforting side-effect of his stare. He made you feel embarrassed for being as excited about eating broth and bread as you were. This was unintentional you knew, but that didn't make you blush less. You could eat until you were full. Full! You could eat until you threw up from being too full! It wasn't weak water from boiling decaying offal served up with stolen grainy mush either. Hardy stock from wild game, warm and oily, the surface shining with fats you were eager to dunk the dense potato bread in to. Venison, rabbit, boar. That smile he would give you whenever you noticed him watching made your cheeks burn. Had he never seen someone happy for a good meal? Had you maybe forgotten how to eat properly? 

It did not take you long to understand Shaman Rumbregal was a blessing far more than a curse. He seemed to understand that you not talking was the result of pain and not a desire to be rude or cold. He could comfortably carry on by himself while still involving you. Listening to the old man's stories were enough to get your mind off the itch. You learned who the ondonti were, about Eldath and why she was their Goddess. Even about why those people had been taken leading your paths to crossing. 

He would ask simple things you could answer with nods or shrugs. Opinions on things that were trivial and vastly useless for him to know but he was a person taking interest in any of the fucks you gave. That was refreshing on its own.

You wondered if he thought you wouldn't catch how little about himself he spoke. At first he didn't even speak of his family, but near the end of his week in the temple with you he began to do so more and more. You learned Malek was not an only son despite being the only to currently live at the village. His wife and infant daughter were taken 25 years prior and Malek's twin had gone to find them, his journey taking him from this world for almost a decade now. You listened to these musings politely. He clearly didn't share your secret pessimism about the odds of the rest of his family being alive. Good, you thought. Maybe some of that optimistic bullshit would rub off on you. Gods knew you didn't have much left and the lack honestly hurt. The magic involved that he eventually described to you was mystifying. The City of Doors didn't sound like it could possibly be real but it had to be. Shaman Rumbregal seemed like he'd be a terrible liar. 

He fussed that Malek had remained behind to protect the village but he knew damn well the bastard also felt like he had to look out for his old man. Not that he wanted both his sons to leave but you would think he was helpless seeing how he's hovered over! Your own observations found that to be a bit exaggerated. Malek did seem to care very much for his father but this did not seem different from how he was to everyone. When he came in he didn't just visit with Shaman Rumbregal though he very easily could. He would inquire to the clerics' doings and needs and helped where he could. He even made it a point to spend time with you.

Malek came by at least once a day, though typically not for too long. What of his time you had he made sure to make worth it for the both of you. He would tell you of the little things in the forest and give his thanks for your listening ear since most would be bored with him for it. He brought updates of how the people who were held in the same wagon as you were faring. He spoke to you about the village enough that you found yourself growing excited to step out of the temple and see it with your own eyes. 

Once he learned of your enthusiasm for food he began bringing strange delights he hoped would not be too rich for your recovering system. Unlike Shaman Rumbregal his gaze didn't feel like he was amused at your expense. Malek certainly paid keen attention, though. He picked up on your predilection to sweet flavors quickly. Smoked candied salmon, pears, salted caramels, raspberries, sweet bean pods, crisp glazed seaweed. Compared to it all however you were most excited when you saw he'd brought you fresh milk, still warm. "To get meat back on your bones," he'd mused when you looked at him like he'd offered a bottle of liquid gold. Even though he seemed to have unspoken awareness of the starvation you must have suffered he was still surprised by how fast you polished it off, seeing you upend the whole bottle without so much as stopping for a breath. 

He was not so socially talented as his father when it came to keeping restrictions in mind and had a habit of forgetting how poorly your throat had been when you came to the village. Without his visits it may have healed a bit faster but you'd have been none the wiser that it had. At the end of that week you were able to speak rather comfortably. If you were quiet, at least.

On your 8th day since coming to you awoke to an empty bed across the room. The panic that shocked your system was enough to privately embarrass you. He was fine. This was not the kind of place where… this wasn't that kind of place. The clerics, who you'd come to know as the married couple Tiel and Froska Rhoeshk, were happy to tell you Shaman Rumbregal was healed. His wounds were closed the night before when you had gone to sleep early thanks to the storm outside. They teased you a little about your snoring still being audible over the rhythm of rain, and said the Shaman had left them with the task of passing on his thanks for keeping an old man occupied and in good company. You looked to the large windows in the temple's sun room before the Glade. Overcast. It would likely rain more today. Good, you thought. It sounded like their crops needed the drink from Malek's stories. It also helped stop you from being so agitated by the idea of looking out the window. Seeing sunlight so close was more torture than the salt bandages. 

The time of day when Malek would have come to visit came and went with no sign of him. You were surprised to find just how disappointed you had the gall to be. Of course he wouldn't keep coming! His father was out. Had you really expected otherwise? Him having given you any of his time at all had been a kindness and you were never entitled to that, let alone more. Somehow it still stung. He seemed like someone you wanted to consider a friend. Rain did come again that day, and though it was more gentle for now you could feel it was far too early for it to be getting so dark. As the wind blew you could hear the rustling of leaves in the massive trees beyond the temple that you could not yet see. Time crawled without the Shaman or his son to speak with and the clerics tending to their true duties of clergy in the hall and at the Glade too much to be good conversation. 

Eventually you were the center of Tiel and Froska's combined attention again, though not in a way you particularly wanted. The wounds along your back were being checked as they were every evening. They'd come to you early today however, tweezers, magnifying glasses and sharper instruments in hand. You were given a particular bark to chew as they assessed your condition now, gnawing at it for its pain-numbing qualities. It did nothing to numb the knotting of anxiety in your stomach knowing these were finally to be removed. You hugged your pillow as they began to discuss gently in orcish to one another.

"We might have to cut a few of these, but we should actually be able get them all tonight," Tiel murmured in common to you finally as he rinsed his hands in a bowl of water from the Glade. You felt Froska's warm hand on your back. 

"Ready yourself. I am going to begin. Do not move if you can help it." You responded to her only by hiding your face in the pillow you held.

You forced yourself not to count as they went about their work. They needed to check each swelling thoroughly. The bizarre feeling of cold metal in over-warm wounds under pressure did eventually give way to the feeling of slight bleeding and relief. Still, as they made it halfway down you were finding it harder and harder to swallow your urge to jerk whenever they caused a spike of pain. The experience was draining. Your grip on the pillow was tight enough that your fingers ached.

"Little wolf."

You lift your face for the first time since this began to see Malek standing over you. He must have looked more concerned before but when your eyes meet you see him relax a bit. The clerics hardly give him a glance even as he settles himself in a stool pulled from out of the way. His skin had an oddly rosy property for something so bright green and he smelled heavily of salt. Sweat, sure, but far more, something stronger, cleaner. He reaches for your hand but the movement is a bit too fast and you jerk away from the sight of it at the periphery of your vision. He thinks better of himself and stops, looking at you in that way you knew meant he was doing some unpleasant mental math. When you reach out to grab his hand and pull it near the pillow to hold you don't look him in the face. He hadn't done anything wrong. The last thing you wanted was for Malek to come by when he didn't have to at all only to be punished for kindness. 

"Little wolf," he started again after a long span of silence, "I'm glad to see you getting fixed up. Perhaps when the weather clears you can finally come outside-" You could feel him shrink away from what was likely Froska's glare when he dared to suggest such. "Well, it means you will be closer to that. I am sorry I did not come sooner. I am not on forest patrol, rather I have been seaward today and the weather was giving us some trouble." 

That catches your attention. The brightness in your eyes when you finally meet his again makes him grin. "On the reef? So that's what you smell like? The ocean I mean?" The village itself was not far from the sea but the Glade was so heavily perfumed by flowering plants and spiced foliage the breezes drifting in the windows hadn't let you smell it. You had never been anywhere near it before and had clearly failed to hide your excitement when he'd brought it up a bit prior. 

"Not the reef today. Deeper waters. We had the good fortune of meeting some dolphins who were willing to help us fish should we share the catch, and good thing to. I'm shit at finding one shining scale the second the weather gets a little hairy."

"What's a dolphin? Are they some sort of merfolk?" You raised your head a bit more, but the clerics soft laughter made you blush and poff your face back in to the pillow. Malek squeezed your hand but you could practically feel that too-amused smile. 

"Not merfolk, no. They are simply clever beasts. They have come to learn if they drive fish in to our nets we are happy to repay them with full bellies."

"I'm glad you are back on shore. The sky is looking angry as far as I can tell," you grumble in to the pillow.

"Indeed. I intended to make a good meal for dreary weather but I did not have the time."

"Shaman Rumbregal was very specific to me about how he hates you cooking for him like a little house wife."

"Oh?"

"I was very specific to him about how only an idiot who's so bad at cooking he wouldn't know what end of a sausage to stuff would think of food preperation as a demeaning task." 

Malek thought for a split second longer than usual and smiled contagiously. "You're awful." 

"So he told me of course he knows what end of the sausage to stuff, and I asked him which." You weren't sure when you'd lifted your head again but your grin was cheshire-like back up at him.

"And?"

"And he was very disappointed when his answer was incorrect, on account of there being no proper end at all."

"I cannot believe it. You murdered my father." Malek sounded entirely too amused, but the clerics groaned.

"I told him the only proper thing about where you stuff sausages is picking a hole, and hopefully he ain't fool enough to mess that one up."

"Little wolf no," his tone becoming that special kind of horror from thinking of one's parents as potentially capable of salacious acts, never mind it being one of his own friends to bring it up, "if he did take that bait I don't want to know." Now the Rhoeshks were having a quiet giggle between the two of them. 

"Oh, he did!"

"Ugh."

"He said to me," and suddenly you were dropping in to a crude impression of the much gruffer, deeper voice of the Shaman, "well, Malek's a terrible cook then, because if he had any idea where to be stuffing sausages he'd have a sweet thing cooking up dinner before he can even think to get his fool-ass home." You somehow became more aware of the clerics when all of their touch left you to avoid accidental pokes as they snickered. Malek had what you think might have been the most strained embarrassment you've ever seen on a person's face. Your smile slowly fades. Oh, right. You'd put him in a bit of a spot, considering his silence was a poor suggestion of his ability but arguing with a shirtless woman holding your hand doesn't look much better. Shit. Shit! Uh, uh, "But, you know." 

"Hm?"

"I'm sure you can do both better than him," and you had to fight not to cringe at hearing yourself say that in an effort to make him feel better. "Oh fuck. Not to say that I've- or that- I'm gonna shut my face." His chartreuse skin mottled with orange-red across his cheeks and on to fill his entire face as you awkwardly stumbled through that thought before burying your face in the pillow again, his hand a bit limp in your grasp. That was tactless and childish, had you completely forgotten how to be friendlier than a hello with someone? There was a long tick of silence between the two of you as the clerics discussed part of their task in a hushed voice, until you found yourself wincing from the work on your back you had somehow forgotten. This seemed to stir Malek beyond his embarrassment. 

"I brought new food, by the way."

"From the sea?" You were hopeful, lifting your eyes just enough to shine them at him.

"Of course," he chirped over-merrily at you as he reached for a basket on the floor. He must have set it down before getting your attention to begin with. "Did you know you can eat much of what you catch raw if you can get it fresh?" 

"That sounds…" Gross? Fake? "Strange."

"It is better than cooked when it was just hauled in. Got you some good bits."

"Miss," a voice chimed over your shoulder, and you twisted your neck enough to see Tiel wiping up the last of the blood on your back as Froska smiled at you and continued, "We can close all of these now except the hook wound, but can start putting the next round of salves on that tonight too. Please let us know if this starts to hurt, ok?"

You can only respond with a slow nod. Malek had done a good job of distracting you. You had no idea they'd gotten to this point in their work. As they mended your injuries your attention was even more difficult to drag away from Malek's gifts. You were marveling at the textures and how even in this form species were distinct in taste when you realized the couple were finished and leaving for the night, and then only because Malek was thanking them for their work. You hurriedly seconded him with a wave. They told you not to lay on your back just yet and Malek to get home before the storm picked up much more or it would not be safe to take the lifts. The wind was starting to howl out there. 

When they were gone you sat up cross-legged on your bed, blanket over your front. Malek handed you your discarded tunic at the edge of the bed and politely looked away. The silence between you was comfortable as you both picked at your share of fish. There wasn't a truly filling amount of food here but it took you both some time to get through as you kept pausing to ask each other inane questions. How had the day otherwise gone, were you feeling alright, how did the other villagers fare today, the things that had become standard in the last week. You spoke quietly as if there were others here to bother, despite the two of you being alone. It just seemed the right thing to do, especially once you were down to the light of just the nearby oil lamp. It was cozy. You liked it so much better than the idea of being left in the dark with your own thoughts. 

A harsh crack of lightning followed by a close and shuddering roll of thunder made the both of you sit up straight and look down the windowed hall. White strobed over the shadowed walls as another flash followed. You both exchanged a look. Oh. 

"Well then. So much for me getting home tonight. Looks like I'm sleeping here," Malek mused as he looked over the few other available beds.

"That's great!"

He turned back to you, confused.

"Uh, that's great. Because this wasn't enough food but I.. Wouldn't want to go walking through the temple without help and… and I like having you here and… yeah." Your embarrassment was apparent enough that he moved from his stool to sitting on the bed beside you, close enough his arm brushed against yours companionably. Once more you were struck with the smell of the ocean. You lapsed in to quiet again, listening to the storm slowly whip itself in to a fury. Imagining the humid draft that sometimes drifted through thanks to the winds to be a sea breeze thanks to your friend's scent. He'd promised to take you there. Along with a lot else, in fact. You realized that for all he'd offered you, you hadn't even given him proper thanks.

"Malek," you spoke up with a quiet tone once more.

"Yes little wolf?" You were struck anew by how lovely his voice was. You'd grown used to it, but him speaking while half-leaned to you let you feel the depth of it rumble in him.

"Thank you. You didn't even have to take me off that hook, let alone go through all this effort to be kind. Now your father isn't even here but you still came to see me. I really… it feels nice," you rapidly felt you were over-sharing but the words continued to march forth and volunteer themselves, "To think hey, someone gives a shit. I think of you as my friend. I hope that's ok." To your worry he seemed sad when you finally looked from the thumbs you twiddled in your lap up to him.

"You saved my life. Bringing you sweets and talking to you is a miserable amount of work toward repaying you for such a thing." He raised a finger to hush you when he heard your sharp breath to argue, nearly touching it to your lips. "Which I am going to repay you regardless of if you think that is necessary or not! Because I do give a shit. That's more than ok to think. We're friends if you would like that. I would." He turned in place and put a hand on your shoulder when he heard you sniffle. "Whoah, hey! Hey, it's ok, it's ok." 

"It is! I think it is. I haven't in so, so long. You're so nice. Is this a dream? I'm going to wake up, and this will be a dream, and I've not gone anywhere-" You were going from bleary-eyed to full-blown hysteria in the span of a few breaths. Malek gently gripped your cheeks, slowly turning your tear stained and increasingly stuffy face up toward him. His huge palms engulfed your pitiful expression and made him all you could see.

"It isn't a dream. You're here. I'm here, you're here, all of this exists." His voice was soothing. You found it odd that these words comforted you as quickly as they did, but you didn't argue. "It will be alright. It is ok to believe that because it is true. I am not even particularly nice, I am just being your friend." One thick thumb stroked across the entire breadth of your cheek to sweep away a tear in such a way that you finally felt small before him. Somehow, despite everything you'd been through, the sensation did not bother you now. He hugged you and your vision was blocked by his bare chest, your face firmly pressed to it, but you didn't care. You clung to him like he might disappear at any moment. Malek spoke soft words in orcish in to your hair with his lips to the top of your head. You recognized these as prayers to Eldath that you had heard spoken by clergy and visitors to the temple alike. The fear fled in this comfort and left you feeling hollow. 

"I'm so tired, Malek."

"Stay here. I will check the kitchen and bring you something warm to eat," he rumbled before realizing you weren't allowing him to stand. Not yet.

"You're warm."

"I'm not to eat," his tone was dry but you finally lifted your gaze only to find him grinning all the same. It wasn't clever or even particularly funny but it got you to smile even just that little bit and that was clearly a victory to him. "I will stay until you want me to go, ok?" 

"I'm sorry I said that."

He looked genuinely lost. "Said what?"

"… about the... about you knowing where to put… listen, I shouldn't… I didn't have to say that. We hardly know each other."

"Oh, fuck's sake little wolf. I'm a grown man, not a prepubescent nightmare who'll have a meltdown. Please don't worry."

"I could have stopped it at just poking fun at him. It wasn't thoughtful." 

"He wasn't exactly lying to you. I have not… pursued such things. I tend not to feel that way toward any particular person until I've gotten to know them completely outside that context. Which, of course, given how known a quantity my lack of current courting is and the fact I might well be the Shaman's only remaining heir," he growled, "no one who fancies me has approached me to _know_ me. They've approached me to _seduce_ me. Big difference." 

You were taken aback. Even you had to admit Malek was handsome enough he didn't have to be single. He was in his early 30s and not bothering when he could likely have his pick. As far as you knew orcs were not long lived. It was somehow comforting to know what mattered more to him for how he treats folks and how he wants to be treated, regardless of his looks or age. "OK, well, then I'm sorry for up and saying something worse to try and make it better." He had to take a moment to recall before smirking. 

"I mean, that was true too. I might not be married but I'm no blushing virgin either." He put a hand to his chin as if in thought, eyes shut but his smile giving him away. "I was popular even before my brother left and father became Shaman." 

"Ugh," you released him and pushed at his chest, making him laugh as he let go of you. "OK you can go now."

"You do not wish to be regaled with my ravishing tales of potentially exciting sexual conquest?" You didn't have to look him in the eye to feel like bristling more, considering you could practically hear the shit-eating grin. 

"YOU CAN GO NOW!!" You leaned to your side so you could plant a foot against his belly and shove with all your might. Your recovering strength was absolutely nothing against him. Turns out that belly was just round, not soft! You still failed to hold back your giggling. He chuckled, and you could feel your cheeks warm just the slightest bit as he stood and turned away, crossing the room. It had been so long since you had gotten to interact with someone in such a comfortable way. You were glad to rediscover the joy of it. Something about Malek made that so easy. He knew just what to say without being disingenuous.

"I'll bring you something. Rest your eyes tired little wolf." 

You carefully turned yourself to your belly, snuggling in to your blankets and listening to the rain. He'd left you with different and admittedly far more amusing thoughts than what had played out in your head for the past week when you found yourself awake in the dark. You tried to picture the kind of person who would even be that in to him. Now that was impossible. He was handsome, strong and kind sure, but he was also a goofy dork who's main hobby seemed to be living for others' happiness more-so than his own. Such a puzzle was better to drift away to than waking nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major CW this time ofher than possibly reflection on survival!

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you didn't like us, you're in such a hurry to go," Froska teased as she began unfurling your wrappings for the final time, her magic having left a fresh pink scar as the only remnant of your coat racking. Tiel chuckled to himself as he folded the bedding pulled from where you'd been stuck for two weeks now. You shot them both an apologetic glance but the impatient bouncing of your foot didn't stop.

"I do like you! I owe you a lot, thank you so much, I don't want to seem ungrateful. I've just been so cooped up feeling, it has been so long since I just went outside, and it looks so sunny and beautiful-"

"And Malek is taking you to the beach?" Tiel hummed, busying himself with the final sheet. You snapped your mouth shut at the interruption, embarrassed that your eagerness to see the beach was that apparent. Froska shot him a bit of a look and he grinned.

"I mean yes, eventually. He's going to show me the village first since it is sort of important for me to be able to navigate a little. He said it would be better to make a day of the beach since it is nicest to do it that way I suppose? But that will have to wait until he is off duty on good weather."

"You are planning to stay awhile then?" This time it was Tiel shooting Froska a look, and she was bewildered in response. You frowned. Was he off that infrequently?

"I don't… really know what I'm doing now. I've got nowhere to go. I might hang around until travelers pass near enough to the forest for me to join." Both of them seemed unsatisfied with that answer as you began to pull the rough-hewn tunic you'd been given over your head to settle it comfortably, no longer having a wound that would revolt against it. "I don't want to be any more trouble for Shaman Rumbregal and Malek than I have to be."

"You're no trouble at all, little wolf!" You couldn't see him yet but Malek was calling to you, and soon he stood in the entry with a cheery grin and his arms behind his back. Despite being made for his own kind he still seemed hulking in the doorway, but with a smile like that he'd be hard pressed to intimidate a kitten. It was infectious, and you could feel yourself smile far too big right back at him, though to be fair you were in a good enough a mood to be bubbly at the smallest of prompts.

"That's bullshit and you know it, don't lie to me," you sigh in faux-exasperation. His arrival was your cue for departure however, and you had respects to pay. Rather than go out the way Malek arrived you instead turned to the back hall where you understood the Grove to be. With a curt bow to the clerics you set off at an awkward pace to give your thanks. Malek knowingly invited himself along and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stay. It was partly your fault for not getting it done before he arrived as you'd intended. Down a hall of cool stone you saw the ornately tiled sun room with a broad archway, morning sunlight streaking in from outside. The brilliance was awe striking to you, knowing it was ten steps from your touch.

The Grove was more beautiful than you'd hoped. You had smelled the sweet scent of the flowers that bloomed perpetually, saw the fog that rolled in from the gentle waterfall, and remembered some of it from the blurs of first waking frightened, but there was so much more to see. Lush greens, bright pops of floral colors, birds flitting across the open point of the canopy that let shafts of sunlight down, places of mossy cobblestone and worn grasses where heavy folk rested often on their knees. The trees and undergrowth came in so thick that your vision disappeared in to darkness among the ferns if you tried to gaze beyond the grove, a natural fence covered in creeping honeysuckle vines. All of this splendor surrounded a large, shallow pool. Despite the waterfall pouring in the surface was so still it was glassy, and the sound was almost muffled. The plants all seemed to reach toward it in some reverence but never enough to block the light. You had seen this imagery stitched in to tapestries indoors, carved in to holy symbols that the clerics wore and invoked during your healing, and etched upon the covers of the Tarrek-Pasar. The holy symbol of Eldath rested before you in realized glory, nestled where her servants could care for it. This blessed Grove was where everyone in the village came to pay their individual respects to their patron Goddess. Malek had followed you but he didn't step from the shadows and in to the light. You tried your best to forget he was there at all and kneeled directly before the spring, ignoring the chill of dew wetting the fabric of your tucked legs as they pressed to the lightly trampled grass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when something in the pool moved, only to realize it was your reflection. This was the first time you'd seen your own face in who knows how long. Since arriving you'd so far avoided seeing it, fearful of what you might find looking back at you. This was far from your expectations. You looked... good. Your hair had grown out enough that the freshly shaven look was behind you now just a bit, you were completely clean, and your once starvation-sunken cheeks were filling in with enough vigor and weight you could see it. It wasn't some scrappy half-dead mess looking back. No, you looked like a person. Suspiciously like the one you were before everything happened, even though you know they're gone. Soon you would look nearly the same despite being totally different. It felt almost dishonest. You reached up to touch at your face while watching in the pool, smiling in timid disbelief when you saw your hand touch the right spots in the reflection. Yep. That's _you_.

You made it.

"Miss Eldath. I am not one of your children, but I owe my life to them, so I owe my life to you. With your aid and guidance they repaired a wretched thing like me enough that I can go. When I leave this temple today it will be the first time I have freely made a decision in years." You take a shaky, near-silent breath. "I am trying not to ask myself why I'm being helped because I know what the ondonti would say. I was hurt, and they could do something about it, so they did. As if kindness given to strangers was so commonplace anywhere else. Not knowing if the frozen serpent they tucked in their shirt to warm is a rat snake or a viper." You felt suddenly self-conscious of your rambling. "Thank you for everything. For helping them save me and encouraging them to be unconditionally good people in a conditionally good world."

You looked in to your reflection silently a moment longer, the water's calm surface perfectly mirror-like. You were not without signs of having come out the other side. There was a notch to your ear wide enough that it healed forever split, and there were indistinct, small scars here and there. A single ripple rolling over your gaze to crease your visage pulled you from your thoughts and your eyes snapped up as if expecting to see the source. Nothing. The strange calm that fell over you rapidly boiled off in to being rather unsettled, quick to lift yourself and step back enough you were no longer seeing yourself in the pond. Was that... recognition? You knew she kept a particular eye on these people. You couldn't help but feel uneasy. You had been a simple village girl previously- Deities were something everyone knew existed, just as one knows the King rules, and just like with the King you never expect to be noticed, merely a speck in a sea of more important things. Even with the unease you did still feel... safer? Less guilt for being helped? You frown and turn on heel to be reminded you had a flesh-and-blood audience as well. Malek was leaning in the doorway, guiltily looking in any direction but yours.

"We can go now," you sighed, turning to slip past his bulk and patting his crossed arms like the head of a troublesome but loveable dog on your way by. He shuffled himself clumsily just a bit too late to make it easy for you to squeeze through. It only took him two great strides to catch up as you kept heading down the hall.

"You always pray to Deities like that?" he mused.

"I don't pray."

"You had none?"

"Oh sure, a few, like... hm. We had Chauntea. Lovely lass, that one. We would give her praise communally when we would bring in the harvest or plant the crops. I didn't pray alone I guess, or with words."

Malek gave you a slightly concerned look as he held the temple door open for you. "Why didn't you?"

"I never had reason to believe I was heard."

  
\-----------------------------

The village was overwhelming. The entire forest by itself was excessively grand, influenced by energy from the Feywilds that made their way here and lingered, adding a dangerous unpredictability to the woods beyond. At least until it had accepted you, or so Malek had said. Non-fey typically would become lost without proper preparation and the forest would cast judgement upon them, but any that lived here became recognized by the land and able to travel freely. You trusted his warnings despite having difficulty believing that. 

The trees were large enough that nearly the entire village was built attached to their sides. Huge encircling platforms hugged them, connected by plank-and-rope bridges and accessible by rope lift platforms, all made of well-hewn lumber from branches that put the entire trunks of other trees to shame. The nailed and weight strained wood was nothing to their mighty girth. To the extent that the ondonti had learned to manipulate the trees' immune systems to inflame them selectively, purposefully cultivating knots of wood which they hollowed in to homes, and it was still an incredible effort. It was all so very high up. If it weren't for what of the village still existed on the ground you could likely walk through this stand of trees and never know the Ondonti were living there.

All of this Malek had been explaining to you as he led you to the nearest lift, and you did your best to register his words diligently despite the assault on your senses. Everything here was vibrant. The scent of greenery, distant sea spray and village cooking, the constant rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze making a wave of white noise behind the bird song, and the colors. Good Gods the colors! Either you had forgotten what colors could be like or the fey influence made it nearly painful to gaze upon such beauty. The bright greens of the Ondonti suddenly seemed far less out of place against the saturated and peculiar colors of their forest home. The Ondonti, you'd come to understand, were no ordinary orcs. They were true fey themselves rather than merely adopted by the woods, and even closely related to the original elves who became the Eladrin. Which was another race you had no concept of and frankly you still didn't understand it- all you needed to know was your new hosts were brightly colored, big eared and kind-hearted folk. As you'd tried to keep pace with him you admired the many unfamiliar faces that turned your way, looking up from chores or stopping mid-stride past to look at you like spooked deer. Handsome folk at that. They weren't without the heightened beauty many fey folk were said to have. You hadn't expected to find Malek was a rather average looking man for his people. Other than his size- he was tall and bulky even among these naturally muscular people.

Malek hadn't really let up on his merciless stream of information. He was naming nearly every platform and building to you with more detail than felt fair to know. Nakressa and Fakain lived there with their six children, Koerldus lived there and has been training game fowl as mousers to pass time after his wife passed, Maschi's wife was a tiefling and the two had the cutest little half-orc twins, that was the communal smokehouse that smelled so good, where the evening drums are played, where the old training platform had been before a particularly bad incident with a lad discovering his wild magic at a very bad time, water storage, baths-

There was no way you were going to retain all this. Malek was so excited to be showing you around he didn't seem to pick up on your occasionally pleading expression, and you couldn't bring yourself to actually speak up. There was a silver lining, however. Malek was so very in his element here, indulging in his pride for his home. His smile was so bright he might as well be glowing. Even those who were cautious of his chosen company gave the impression of being very fond of him if he dragged them in to an awkward introduction. It dampened your anxiety. Seeing him happy made you happy, in a way. Still... You didn't even fully realize how taxing that had been until you were stepping past the threshold of his family home, sad to leave the sunlight but glad to be away from the gazes of all those curious onlookers and to have a moment of relative quiet. Malek didn't close the door behind you both- instead he stayed there with a hold on the handle just outside.

"Little wolf, I'm sorry to leave you but I only managed to get out of my morning duties. I will return!" He smiles at you, huge and toothy, his teeth so sharp you'd be afraid if you didn't know better. "But for now my home is your home yes? Please make yourself comfortable here. Go up the stairs and you will find a few spare rooms, I have set one up for you. If you decide to leave maybe bring Mouse with you. She can make sure you don't get lost." He bowed, and before you could fully say thank you he was pulling the door shut, leaving you in ringing silence. A fresh surge of anxiety welled up in your gut but you swallowed it down and did your best to shake it off. The door wasn't locked. You weren't trapped here.

All alone in someone else's home. Like a real house home, a home-home where a family lived, not a tent, not a hole, not a wagon or a crate, a home. You hadn't actually been in one in... a long time. The idea felt almost alien to you, a sensation not helped by the fact that this was an entirely different culture than the ones you've known.

The most eye-catching thing in this small entry room was a panel of wood that seemed out of place. Painstakingly taken from another tree and placed here to rest on an altar. It was a large carving of the symbol of Eldath, a waterfall pouring in to a glassy pool, painted in long-faded colors. Some had curled in heat or been stained by smoke. There was a basin of still water placed before it, along with three incense burners, none currently lit. It made you strangely uneasy, though you were also very curious. Did every household have their own altar like this?

You looked to either side. Through the doorway to your right was a rising staircase curling away. To the left you could make out what must be the edges of furniture. Not wanting to simply retreat to "your" room you went to explore, and found the place to be a bit of a den. Heavy cushioned and fur-cloaked chairs scaled up to ondonti size, a thick rug, dense knitted blankets folded and set aside, everything in here seemed to be for coziness. There wasn't much in the way of decor. A few racks of deer antlers framed either side of a book shelf stuffed with reading material. You grimaced. There were misplaced books around as well, suggesting it wasn't a collection just for show. You'd never been taught to read. Maybe you could finally learn..

Something else stood out to you more than the rest of the room. On a smooth twist of grapevine wood stood a taxidermy owl, nearly solid white in its feathering with black-tipped spots here and there. It had the size and tufts of a great horned owl. They weren't usually this color. A rare prize, and a lovely piece at that! Doing birds was so difficult! It had been a long, long time since you'd thought of the family business. Had father found a new apprentice to replace you, you wondered? Goodness, you had to meet whoever did this. The eyes were so beautifully made. Huge and unnaturally blue. How had they made them so even? Did they blow the glass themselves?

The taxidermy owl blinked at you as you continued to stare, and your spine straightened, face turning red. Oh. It was a living owl. That explained some things. It had just been very still. Odd. Neither of them had mentioned being in to falconry of any sort. The owl blinked again, looking away with a sigh.

A sigh. Not a very owl-like noise. Even less owl-like was her voice as she said "Just as I suspected. You look nothing like a wolf."

You were torn between shock at being spoken to by an OWL and being incredulous about how that sounded very much like an insult. "What- and so what if I don't! I never claimed to!"

"He has a tendency toward ill-fitting names. You're as much a fierce beast as I am a rodent." She slowly turned her head with another long blink, looking away.

You puzzled over this for only a moment. "You're Mouse then, I take it?" The bird turned her gaze back on you with that forever unimpressed expression. She probably couldn't help it, you supposed, having a beak and all. "Malek didn't tell me he had a pet owl."

Mouse's feathers raised slowly before suddenly collapsing tight against her body, and she seemed to glare past you at the wall. "I am not his pet."

"Oh. A.. guest?" You were at a loss.

"I'm the twins' guardian." When that didn't seem to alleviate your confusion, she flustered. "A familiar?"

"Like what wizards have sometimes?"

"What? No! Wizards enslave unwilling spirits- oh bollocks." She shuffled on her perch, quieting her own upset. "I promised I would not cause trouble. I'm. Sorry." It seemed difficult for her to eek that apology out. "All Ondonti have fey spirit guardians assigned by Eldath that they meet as children. I am the guardian of both Sett and Malek, as they are twins. A most uncommon occurrence that requires the most capable of overseers." She puffs her chest with a bit of pride. "I am a lifelong companion and have been Malek's very good friend since he was very small." She eyes you up and down suspiciously. "And you are this stray dog he has taken in and won't shut up about, yes?"

Ah. This made a bit more sense now. "You're jealous? That's alright. We can both be a friend to Malek. The dude is huge, there's plenty of him to go around." The audacity of your plain statement settled her in to stunned silence and they finally had the decency to look a little ashamed. Best not to linger on it. "He talks about me?"

"Oh yes, more and more by the day. Little Wolf told me _this_ , Little Wolf told me _that_ , Little Wolf seems to like such-and-such food, I wonder where she came from, maybe she will stay, blablabla blaaaa." She tilts her head side to side, wings slightly out and swaying as she speaks. "He fusses over you like a mother hen I'm sure." She looks frustrated with the idea on your behalf and when you can't help but grin she seems to smile with her eyes despite herself.

"He's never asked me about those last two... I didn't think he cared."

"Oh he cares SO MUCH." She flusters a little. "But he doesn't want to pressure you or make you anxious or bring up bad memories so he keeps his mouth shut. Then he mulls the same things over every night here. He thinks about these things VERY loudly."

"I don't appreciate being seen as a porcelain doll, even if he is considerate to be mindful. He seems so convinced I'm strong to my face- wait. You hear his thoughts?"

"Of course. It is a part if our bond. I see some of his memories, feel his stronger emotions, hear the things most on his mind."

"That sounds... exhausting."

"And why is that?!" She puffs up in feather and tone like you've insulted her workmanship.

You stare blankly at her. "He's _Malek_."

Hearing an owl laugh is bizarre. The more feral voice that must be buried somewhere in her chest rattles at the end of each note making it somewhere between a chuckling woman and the natural cry of an owl. When she opens her wings the span of sudden white is great enough to make you tense and you barely resist sneering defensively as she launches from her perch to the back of a nearby chair in a few short flaps. "Alright, I have changed my mind proper now. I think I like you after all."

The tension eases from you slowly as you try to hide it was ever there but your tone is dull. "Well thanks so much."

She stares at you thoughtfully, then tilts her head. "I will start us over. My name is Mouse. What is yours?" You give her your name and she repeats it in a way very similar to how Malek did when you'd introduced yourself. She nods. "I agree with him that it does not fit that gaze of yours. I am sorry to've made an ass of myself. If it helps he truly doesn't think you weak and does not pity you. He admires you." Another un-owl-like sigh. "The last person he stayed with overnight was some time ago. I suppose I was being a little defensive."

"What does that have to do with anything?" For a long moment you existed in a world where that would seem like a completely unsuggestive outcome on paper. Then it clicks, and you must look horrified because she begins to laugh again. "Oh!! No, the storm trapped him there, we didn't- I mean Malek is very sweet but I'd never- and I don't just up and- I was poorly!" You can't seem to finish a thought and seem disappointed with your final decision, crossing your arms with a dramatic huff. It had been some time since the storm. Was this the assumption?! Had this gotten around?? Now getting led about the village by him felt worse to think on.

"I believe you," she says softly as she shakes her head, "don't stress. His father on the other hand..."

"The Shaman is a kind man but he needs to mind his own when it comes to his son's business," you say dryly with a slightly snide knowing grin, "and mine." She practically giggles.

"Yes he does. He's-" She looks up with shock, hearing footsteps entering the other room. You swing around at the heavy tromping of an orc in a hurry. "Home?? Why is he home?" Rumbregal appears through the doorway with a desperate expression, tears in his eyes. Both you and Mouse take fright at his expression.

"Mouse," his usually booming voice cracks, "please go get Malek. Quickly."

"What happened?" She seems on the verge of panic.

"It's Sett. Sett contacted me." He doesn't need to say another word. Mouse vanishes without so much as a puff or pop, surprising the hell out of you. You turn to the Shaman who has already begun pacing, counting on his fingers. He finally takes notice of you and stares stupidly in silence before his face splits in to a massive, if slightly embarrassed, grin. "I forgot you were coming here today! All sorts of things to celebrate!!" He rushes you and pulls you in to a bearish hug as if he needs one to live, overcome with joy but without a more familiar figure to have it spill toward, his tears apparently happy. You have no idea how to respond other than slowly giving his shoulder a few pats, hoping only you can hear your teeth grinding. Luckily he releases you from the iron grip when he can see how tense the contact makes you but he is still glowing. "He found them. My family is _alive_."

  
\----------------------------------------

As soon as Malek arrived on Mouse's summons the den was rambunctious with activity despite only holding the two orcs. They were babbling excitedly about the messages they had received and had apparently been able to reply to somehow. A spell called Sending, which works across planes and apparently even realities with very limited success. The messages had arrived all broken up but whole enough to be understood. You had drifted to the stairs and up them, away from the hubub. It felt too much like you were witnessing something private. As good a time as any to find your room.

The stairs continued up in to some sort of master bedroom, but you found that directly off the spiral steps were many short landings before tall doors. A washroom, a seemingly occupied room that you forced yourself not to pry in to just yet, and then a prim room that still smelled so freshly of saw dust that it had obviously not been used. This one had a neatly made simple bed, a grass basket of towels, a rough hewn nightstand, an empty wardrobe and enough puffy pillows to make a nest. There was also a table far too low for chairs over a soft looking fur rug and you found yourself dreading tripping over it any time you tried to move about in the night. The single window took up much of the outer wall from waist level up, a veil-like curtain drawn over it. You pulled the curtain aside hoping to find a way to crack it open for some fresh air and were greeted by the beautiful, spanning sight of the village platforms beneath you, dappled shade from leafy branches falling over you and making the people below seem to be walking dream-like through shafts of sunlight. You watched this in stunned silence for a long while and it struck you once again: you made it. You lived to see trees and sunlight again. 

This time you had the privacy to simply cry. The tears rolled silent and steady down your cheeks and you drifted to the bed to lay there among the pillows, enamored with the fact this wasn't a dream. Against the nature you'd been willing to display since arriving here you burrowed in the the pillow stack and hugged to one, quietly cry giggling, and bounced a little on the comfortable mattress. Softness! And you had space and spare energy to be giddy with!! You bicycled your legs in the air, hugging the pillow tight and outright laughing now. Everything was going to be ok.

Your legs flopped to the stuffed bed and you melted in to the comforts surrounding you, eyes half lidded. This had been a tiring day. Maybe just a nap. Or at least lounging in the sun... and then a sharp-toothed face swung in to your vision and you lashed out with a screech, your fist connecting hard with bone and your knuckles splitting in a sickeningly familiar feeling. 

Malek rubbed at his jaw, looking as bewildered as he was impressed. You finally registered exactly what you'd just done, and you were scrambling to collect yourself. "Oh Gods, Malek I am SO sorry, are you ok?!"

He grins at you while looking at his fingers before wiping the blood smeared there from his split lip off on to his pants. "It's nothing! I've been hit far harder by things much bigger than you. Ha. Been awhile since I got clocked like that, though. You'd have dropped a glasser jaw." You could feel just how hard you'd hit him in the soreness of your hand and up your arm. Your heart was pounding and he softened. "Are you alright though Little Wolf?"

"I'm fine- wait, how long were you here?"

"I just got here." He smiles too big at you in an attempt to be comforting. Other than highlighting the (admittedly minor on a face as big as his) damage you'd caused it accomplished nothing, and especially didn't ease you.

"You are a terrible liar, Malek."

He droops, which is hilarious to see on a frame his size. "You left the door open so I was just waiting for your.. kicking? To be done." When you lit up red he smiled apologetically, touching tenderly at the spot you'd whalloped him. "This is encouraging though. I was hoping you might feel well enough to fight."

Your stomach lurched, and you felt the blush drain off your cheeks in a rush of retreating warmth. "Why." You didn't mean for it to come out so forcefully.

"My brother Sett managed to send us! He found my baby sister! Mom is alive!" He puts his hands on your shoulders with a gentle squeeze, sitting beside you on the bed. "I'm an uncle, too!! My brother has a wife and daughter now, and my little sister is expecting with her fiance." You must have seemed confused, because he seemed uncharacteristically embarrassed. "Sorry- they're going to come home when they can. Apparently my sister and her friends are involved in something important? But when it's over they'll be coming back through Sigil. That crazy door place I told you about. It was easy enough for Sett to go through on his own, but there's going to be a pregnant woman and a young child to get all the way back here. He wants me to bring a boat so they needn't charter one or go over land."

"And that makes punching you good how?"

"It is going to be a slightly long journey. I'd rather not go alone, and since you don't know what you want to do now that you're free and well, I figure if you're up to it.. we can travel together. Maybe you'll find the perfect home along the coast. We could drop you off wherever seemed like home for you on the return trip."

Your mind was instantly reeling with conflicted desires. If you were out of this sanctuary you might run in to them. You may also need to fight and could get hurt or worse, and you knew nothing about sailing. The idea of settling down in a beautiful coast side town where you could eat all the seafood you wanted and smell the sea breeze every morning, though? That appealed immensely. Beyond that you knew he would go either way.

The night you met was almost the night he died. If you hadn't thrown yourself on to that goliath fuck he would've let himself get stabbed. There was so much pain, then and for all your time spent healing after, but it had been worth it because you'd survived. You both had. If he was out there alone and ran in to trouble and you weren't there to be the one slammed on the hook what would become of him? Except you weren't a fighter. You were a scrapper. A creature of tenacity and desperation, not skill. You'd gotten lucky.

"Alright. Under one condition. I don't have any formal training. So." You straighten your spine to try and look more serious, chin tilted up a bit as you look at him. "Teach me how to fight."

He looks genuinely shocked. "No formal training? But you seemed... hm..." There was a clear bit of second guessing happening.

"Please? I want to go, but I need to be able to help you instead of just being another factor to worry about."

He searches your face a long moment, eyes ticking over your features in silence. When he nods it seems sad somehow. "Alright little wolf. I don't know if you can learn to fight how I prefer to. But between me and the other ondonti I'm sure we can get you feeling confident enough to face the road." 

The two of you exchange a nod with equally unsteady grins. Seeing him unsure like this was alien. It is worth a twinge of pain in your heart. You don't like worrying this big teddy bear of a man. "I promise I'll do my best."

"It isn't that. I just worry about scaring you."

"At this point Malek? I don't think you could scare me if you tried."

"I scare you all the time. I notice when you jump from loud noises, or cringe away from touch. You hate loud laughter especially and I am not a quiet man, nor is my Father. I'm sorry."

You don't respond. His smile becomes more apologetic. You don't know which is worse, the guilt or the embarrassment. "Ok. So you're observant."

"Just with you." He doesn't seem to realize how that might come across until you give him an alarmed huff. You recover first.

"So what are you going to teach me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What class should you train to become?


	5. A Change In Plans

The camp was quiet. No squalling, no chatter, no laughter. You must've been left alone so far today considering how warm you were. The sun had to be long risen for the warmth to be reaching you so pleasantly all the way down here. With no one demanding you wake up you were reluctant to even open your eyes, turning over and reaching out at the dirt to find the edge of the rags you felt yourself nested in. Someone had laid them over you. Who had left these? They were certain to get in trouble if the Sovereign were to know. Your senses were dulled with everything feeling far away, lost in a sleepy haze. Your stomach didn't yell at you loudly enough to clear your thoughts. Maybe you were sick. The warmth could be a fever. Your starving stomach would only be so quiet if your appetite wasn't thoroughly dampened. Maybe they were going to give you the mercy of wasting away in solitude. Maybe they'd all caught it from you and miraculously keeled over of plague in the night.

A clawed grip yanked the cloth from your face as you cuddled further in to the makeshift nest. Or maybe you'd just been forgotten about temporarily and that dream existence was over. You had half a mind to play dead until one long talon pressed at your nose. Even without opening your eyes you could tell this was a larger claw. Panic flooded you. The Sovereign's son?!

Someone spoke your name in a strangely familiar feminine tone. You froze. "You must get up now," the voice continued, "you're already going to be late." Your eyes fluttered open in surprise to meet the gaze of a white owl, standing carefully on your chest with the hem of your blanket gripped in one foot. You sat bolt upright enough to make her fumble in to your lap, tumbling in to the pillows you'd half-buried yourself in with an undignified hoot.

"Mouse!! Is something the matter?!" Your voice was strained and your pitch worrisomely high. She twisted her head just enough to look at you with her typical blankness.

"The river, Wolf?"

"Oh. OH!" You looked to the window. The sky was barely even beginning to lighten. "This early??"

"He did warn you it wouldn't be easy, didn't he? Come on now." She flusters to her feet and hops with one flap to the undisturbed end of the bed. "He left breakfast."

"He's already out?"

"He has a fairly intense routine and not much time in the day." With her wings mantled up she gave half a hop and seemed to fling herself in to non-existence, popping to wherever it was she spent her time away. Somewhere in the feywilds as far as you understood.

You stumbled out of bed tripping over your own feet while your legs felt unhelpfully sleep-heavy. At least you didn't have to worry about wasting time picking clothes or what might be considered over-packing. You'd been excited enough that you had prepared the night before. Spending time with Malek outside the context of being trapped in a room or flaunted to strangers was only part of the appeal. You were determined to get strong enough to ensure that nightmare you'd started drifting in to didn't occur. He didn't have to know you had other motives considering they weren't at all bad, right?

You hoped the Shaman was already up too. If he wasn't he was certain to be now thanks to your tired clumsiness. Getting dressed while on the move had you stumbling about and the way you thumped down the stairs was more akin to a controlled fall than a hustle. You were pulling your shirt in to place when you rounded the corner to the kitchen space. A pot rested on the still-warm stove despite the fire being out, ladle laying over the lid. Ah! Porridge. It's ok, he didn't know. You scooped up the nearby bowl and began spooning out as small a portion as you could sate yourself with. It smelled oddly savory and had a thickness to it that you didn't expect. Were those bits some sort of grated mushroom? Peculiar! Maybe it would be different enough to not resonate with your anxiety the same way. Despite this and the fact it was warm and tasty it was still a struggle to down the first spoonfuls. With any luck he would _never_ know.

You forced yourself to make short work of your breakfast and shorter work of rinsing your dishes in the basin. Never minding your memories the kitchen still bothered you on a deeper level than the rest of the house. Out of every space here it was the one most obviously meant for a far larger family than had ever filled it. If they hadn't heard from the rest of their family the day you'd arrived it might have even been frightening, haunted by the ghosts of a dinner gathering never to be. You were eager to leave and get out the front door.

After coming down one of the lifts the walk to the river was still a fair chunk of time. The air was brisk as a slight breeze came in from seaward and grass coated in chilly dew rasped over your ankles. You could see only a few lights up in the trees. Most hadn't started their days. It was lonely in a way. The warmth from the hot food and your quick pace kept you cozy enough, and there was at least the companionship of the birds waking up to greet the morning with their song.

Color had crept in to the sky as the sun nearly reached the horizon. There was only a smattering of clouds and a strong orange hue, the many leaves and branches standing as stark marks of black painted over the beauty. You would've thought you'd gone the wrong way by now if you couldn't hear the river. It was at one edge of the village, a quick moving split from a much larger river deeper in the woods that emptied in to a nearby estuary.

It was fairly shallow as well- when you finally laid eyes on it you could see to the bottom wherever the reflection of the sun on the surface didn't blind you. The foot traffic had worn down paths along its bank in both directions, leaving you confused. Wait. Which way would he be?? You were going to be late for sure now!

A sudden cacophony of splashing and the irritated mutterings of a familiar voice caught your attention, and as you looked down river you could see the bulky outline of Malek cresting the surface, struggling with something. His back was to you so he was as blind to your approach as you were to the identity of his troubles.

"Stop it with the- OW! Fuck!!" He swung around with something in a grip more like a bear hug, and whatever the beasty was it was putting up an immense struggle. He caught sight of you and stood up straighter, making his new pal start flailing as if it might drop a thousand feet to its death should it be mere inches over the water. "Little wolf!! We have a bit of a problem h-" SMACK. A soaked, feathered wing slaps across his face with such a sharp whip you can't help but wince, backing up half a step.

"What is _that_?!"

"It's- OW!" A sharp beak snaps on to his forearm. After prying it's mouth free he begins hauling it ashore and you finally get a better look. The creature wails miserably seeming certain it would die. "Oh hush you, you'll wake the whole village! It's-"

"A baby gryphon!!" You're embarrassed by your own mystified tone, but you've only ever seen adult individuals brought in dead by rich hunters. "Oh!! What are you doing here sweetheart?"

Malek flusters, sputtering water as the thickly furred tail whaps him across the mouth. His chest and forearms are a field of raw streaks and his face is red from hard smacks of wet limbs but it seems to be your attitude toward the little monster that has him ruffled. He recovers from whatever look it was he was giving you, trying to wipe the reaction off his face as the gryphon nearly swats him again. "Sweetheart? If it hadn't been in the river I'd think it came from the Hells! This thing is a demon!!"

"Demons come from the Abyss. Devils come from the Hells." The remark isn't meant to sting. Your flat way of speaking is only because you're approaching, ever so slowly putting your hand out. The baby gryphon ceases its flopping and hisses, tongue out and pupils rapidly flexing. Its little chest is heaving and you can see how it shakes- likely more from cold and exhaustion than fear. It's so waterlogged it can't even raise all its fur and feathers to try and look big and scary.

"I don't really know my monsters too well. Isn't a demon and a devil the same thing?" Malek takes advantage of this moment of calm to re-adjust his grip on the hissing youngling, which sets it thrashing anew and leaves him unsuccessful.

"Oh nonono, absolutely not! The only similarity is both of them would gut you for confusing them for the other." You continue approaching, hand out-stretched, but you don't attempt to pet it. Instead you wave it upward to keep the gryphon's attention there before slowly bringing your other palm up. "Here. Support his feet. He seems too tired to jump but he'll keep squirming if he doesn't feel secure. Bring them up close to the belly like this," you hummed while you guide his grip, "and you can hug him back to pin the wings behind him to your chest- yeah, like that!"

Malek gives you a nervous grin. He had an actual hold on the nestling now but he clearly didn't feel confident. "This is a realm of knowledge I didn't expect from you."

"Anything someone can hunt someone will want to make a trophy out of. If you want to capture a good likeness your first step is to understand what the creature was like alive." You didn't realize how creepy that might sound until you were stuttering your way through an explanation. "Ah, which, I, uh, I was a uh, I was a taxidermist's apprentice. Was set to take over the shop eventually. It gives you a lot of appreciation for the scarier things out there. Gryphons were common targets but what little I could ever learn about living ones was about raising them. Those were the only books that bothered discussing them extensively that we had around." When you managed to look him in the face again he seemed both intrigued and impressed, and that was somehow more embarrassing than him possibly thinking you were some weird creep.

"All I know about gryphons is they're stubborn and live on the cliffs a ways off. The poor thing must've been in the river for a distance. They soaked up so much water their head was barely above the surface when the current dragged them by." The little gryphon was merely opening its mouth in silent and ineffectual threat, feathery ears pressed flat. 

"Poor thing.. gryphon nestlings are fiercely competitive. The smallest often gets tossed from the nest when the others start fledging, since they're behind. He's probably just skin and bones under all this fluff." You sunk your hands in to the wet feathers of its chest, causing it to try and writhe away with a mournful keen. It didn't take much prodding to determine the little thing was emaciated. "Shhh, we're not gonna hurt you." The nestling didn't seem to believe you, but it didn't seem to have much fight left in it either. "They need to be dried and warmed before anything else. Then we should get some food in them."

"Should we take it back to the parents?"

"If he couldn't climb back to the nest on his own then they're just going to reject him. He might've simply fallen though, he's really young.."

Malek considers a moment, hefting the slight weight of the gryphon in to a better hold. An idea slowly dawned on him. "Young enough to train? A saddled gryphon would be very useful."

"Yes I suppose?? Mouse will kill you if you adopt another part bird thing."

"Oh, I can't adopt it." Squish. A soggy brat is plopped in to your arms leaving you to scramble with little claws thrashing at your chest. "You should."

You gawked stupidly at him and he laughed, arms crossed while you wrestled the angry critter in to having its wings pinned once again. You didn't manage before it got a couple slaps to your face and shoulders in. "You want me to train a _feral gryphon_?! Are you insane?!"

"Think about it though! This is perfect. It will grow bigger and make you grow stronger bit by bit to keep up with wrangling it. Learning can be sped up by teaching someone else at the same time too. Adapt what I teach you in to something you can do astride a beast and then you can practice together." He pats it gently on the head and it snaps at his fingers.

"But I don't know how to train a dangerous animal! Or any animal, for that matter!! Reading books and practical experience is not the same!"

"That's a good excuse to get to know others in the community! We have a hunting and scouting party composed of folks who fly gryphons. You'd like them, I think." You must have seemed exceptionally sour because he pats your head next, giving you a hopeful smile. "And they can take the little bastard off our hands if he ends up being too much. Okay?" For someone so imposing Malek was frighteningly good at puppy eyes. "We need to get creative here, I don't have as long to train you as I'd prefer. Please?"

The creature in your arms has finally given over to death, making itself as much dead weight as possible to inconvenience you before you finally eat it. You look between the two pathetic displays: one orc asking if you'll keep the stray kitten and one menace dripping and shivering with a miserable expression. "... Fine." Only one of the two seems happy about this development. "We need to go back to your home. I don't want him freezing to death and he's certain to be hungRY MALEK _WHAT_ -"

He's put his strength to good use and plucked you up, half-tossing you over his shoulder so the gryphon is dangling from your arms at his back. It bicycles its stubby hind legs in the air. "There. See? Now you have a shared experience already. Hold on tight to him ok?"

"Put me down right now! I'm perfectly capable of walking- _OH!!_ " You very nearly do drop the nestling as Malek puts on a sudden burst of speed, running back toward the house at a pace you wouldn't have been able to match by any stretch of the imagination. Talons dig in to your arms as the gryphon lets out an indignant SKRAWP, but you still hoist it up in to a hug. The terrified little thing grabs on to you like the only piece of flotsam in an endless stormy sea. You try to ignore the sharp stings of claws pricking your skin. He's just frightened. You grip a little tighter when you think about what he likely endured before falling from the nest.

When Malek deposits you at the front door the little gryphon doesn't want to be set back down again.

* * *

"No."

You sighed, shifting on the couch where you were piled underneath blankets, a nestling brat having hidden itself up your shirt leaving _both_ of you cold even once he was mostly dried. Here it goes. You knew Mouse wasn't going to like this.

"What? I didn't even ask anything," Malek answered blankly, half calling from the kitchen as he finished shuffling through the ice box.

"No. No gryphons. Precisely zero gryphons allowed."

"I don't really need your permission." A raw sausage is placed on a flat portion of Mouse's perch, and he continued right over to you. "But if you're worried about them living here forever, it's really little wolf here who's keeping it." You glowered at him, which he met with a grin as guilty as it was tusky. Ugh. It was hard to stay even a little upset with him.

"And who talked her in to that I wonder?" Mouse was ruffled with all her owl fury but was still eyeing that sausage. Eventually it must've seemed like a good enough peace offering and she carefully bent over to tear at it. "You have a young niece coming, and soon there will be an even younger nibling to worry for! A gryphon is perfectly capable of eating a baby!"

"So are you, what's your point?"

"Well," you chime in as she fluffs up in fresh indignance, doing your best to cut a coming tirade off, " _technically_ I won't be around when those kids are and the little one here will be coming with me. If I train it I'm damn well keeping it." You accept the fish that Malek holds out to you, grimacing as you pull the blanket back enough to show the beast in question.

"And if it's dangerous in our hands we have alternatives. Oh. Uh. Let me.. go get you a towel." Malek was gone almost as quickly as he'd returned thanks to a hungry beak snapping at the fish he'd produced and dragging it in to your shirt like a feathery ankheg. You nod pleadingly, trying to ignore the distinct squish of fish guts getting bitten in to.

Mouse watches you thoughtfully. "He did talk you in to it, right? You can tell him no, you know."

"I know I can. He's gone so far out of his way to help me, I feel like this is the least I could do. And besides," you hesitantly add while looking toward the kitchen door, "he's hard to say no to."

"He is. I'm more surprised he would risk your safety considering all the worrying he has done over you. He has a lot of trust in you." You try to process that with a slightly open mouth, probably looking proper lost, but there are returning foot steps before you can muster a response.

When Malek returns you accept the cloth gratefully, but simply hold it there, not sure what would be useful to actually do with it just yet. The gryphon clears its throat with a wheezy sneeze sound and you feel something wet flung to the underside of your chin. Ew.

Mouse politely turns her attention back to her sausage, which she sets to picking up ever so delicately before horking the large pieces down whole. _Ew_. Why are bird things like this? "Fine. You two are grown adults. You can get your faces torn off by a wild animal if you want." She stubbornly turns her back to you both, though it might be less her disappointment and more her awareness that you were watching her eat.

"Hear that little guy? Mouse is your new big sister!" Malek pats at the lump moving under the blanket. The only response is a greedy hiss , and you feel it curl around its meal.

"I am no such thing!" Her head swivels rather than her turning and she levels him with a glare.

"Yep. Big sis Mouse. You two will get along swell." When you join in Malek seems delighted enough it outshines the glare Mouse now fires in _your_ direction.

"He needs a name. Any ideas little wolf?" Malek lifts your feet gently to sit and lets your heels down on his thigh. Geeze, he is not soft.

"No, but I know you're not naming him." Mouse snickers. That seems enough for her to have rapidly forgiven you at least.

Malek huffs. "I shouldn't have sat down. I'm on guard rotation today. Need to get going." He makes no moves to leave. Too late. He'd fallen prey to comfiness.

"Ok but you kinda need to get the hell out of here so I can get out of this nasty shirt and put this mongrel on to a table until he's done," you reply flattly, not daring to smile until he stands right back up.

"Right. Sorry. Good luck with him today."

"Pretty sure I got fish guts in my armpits."

"Find me if you need me ok?" He's making rapid strides toward the door.

"And fish scales in the underboob like the world's unsexiest merfolk."

"Byyyyyye!" You hear the front door shut. A snort that rolls in to a laugh wells up from you, bouncing the little beast on your ribs until he digs his claws in to one of your sides, silencing you with a wince.

Mouse turns to face you again, looking as dour as ever but with a more serious stillness. "Really though. This is what you want?"

"I need to learn to be stronger and I trust him plenty too." You stand carefully to start awkwardly pulling your shirt over your head one handed. The little gryphling sinks its claws in when he realizes how exposed he is, making you draw a sharp hiss through grit teeth.

"You owe him nothing, truly. He would've been a monster to leave you behind in such a state. And this will follow you even after Malek is out of your life and you live elsewhere." She seems unimpressed, tail feathers fanning as she stretches one wing to re-adjust herself. "You should only be embarking on an undertaking like this for yourself and no one else."

The little gryphon worries at the fish in its beak, sinking claws in to it when you finally peel them off your freshly bleeding side. He seems to think you might take it, but he isn't running off which is a relief. You gently pat him between the feathery ears and he goes completely stiff until you stop the touch. His fish unaccosted he eventually settles down, and returns to his ripping and tearing of foodstuffs instead of you. You watch him for a moment before responding to Mouse.

"This is for me too. I want to be stronger for my own reasons, I'll never get another opportunity like this... and I guess I'd want to help Malek even if he hadn't asked. He has been very kind to me."

"And...?"

You look at her with a bewildered stare. "And?"

"That's really the end of it?" She walks to the edge of her perch as she speaks, head tilting as she stares.

"Yes? Is there something I'm missing?"

She looks you over with nearly imperceptible twitches of her pupils, then fluffs and settles her feathers as if resetting herself. "No, I suppose not. OH! _WRETCHED THING!_ " The little gryphon is suddenly trying to scramble up the perch, swiping its talons at Mouse's remaining hunk of sausage before realizing he hadn't thought the whole continuing to hold on thing through. As it falls it is held aloft by one angry owl's beak, the two both biting the final bit of meat, huffing and puffing at each other like they mean to blow the house down. The baby writhes until Mouse's beak clamps fully shut on nothing and with a thud and a groan of pain you flop front-first down on to the table between you and them, barely catching the hatchling halfway to the floor. It seems nonplussed with your heroism and simply starts trying to horf down the sausage bite before Mouse can come to take it.

Ah well. You set him back on the table and chance finally wiping the mess from your exposed front before slipping fully out of the shirt. Mouse is kind enough to bring you a new shirt even if she's irritated, if only to prevent the new household pet from wreaking havoc while you try to find one yourself.

When you dab his front off with a damp towel to wipe the fish guts and shed scales away there is a big jiggly spot on the gryphling's chest. You poke at it in a panic, then have the gross realization that this is his crop just under the skin. He's gotten himself a proper meaty food boob. Nice to know there was a way you could check to see if he's eating, though. Once cleaned the kitten stares at you blankly. " _Hhhhrrrrrrr._ " A long, quiet and raspy whine. Silence. And then he repeats more urgently. You have no idea what it is he wants, and soon he's standing on all fours eeking out much longer sounds like crooning chicken. You look to Mouse desperately, and she seems mildly insulted you would turn to her after letting the beast have her sausage, but she finally puts her wings out in a bit of a shrug.

"He's tired, maybe?"

"Makes sense. Alright, come here." You grab the gryphon by the scruff and are surprised to find it is only a little stiff, relenting and allowing itself to be lifted. You'd read only a properly comfortable little one would let themselves be lifted without struggling. "Let's you and me go catch up on that sleep we would have liked to have this morning, eh?"

Malek eventually returns, anxious. He'd had plenty of hours to walk around by himself on a mindless path to convince himself that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Entering to find Mouse nowhere to be seen on the lower floors didn't exactly alleviate the problem. When he went to check your room however, everything fell in to place and felt right. Mouse was here, plopped down on her stomach in an awkward loaf of feathers, relaxed enough to look like more of a puddle than an owl. And there you were curled up in the blankets, a pillow over your eyes to block the light, snoring gently as a curled up young gryphon on your chest was rocked by the rise and fall of your breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one this time. The little gryphon still needs a name and proper appearance. Is there a preference you would have? Thanks for reading!


End file.
